


Want

by lb4



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: AU, Confessions, F/M, Magic to make the sanest Man go mad, alcohol mention, no time loops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-30 22:52:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12663078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lb4/pseuds/lb4
Summary: Your alcohol fogged mind and loose lips seem to work out in your favour.





	Want

**Author's Note:**

> Another small Gabriel fic, cause why not.  
> Enjoy! Feedback/Kudos/Criticism super appreciated!  
> You can find me on tumblr as anotherstartrekimagineblog

“Science Specialist Burnham, Lieutenant Tyler and Commander (Y/L/N) to the bridge.” The ship’s computer announces mechanically over the music playing at the party.

Despite the fact you’re unexpectedly enjoying yourself, and seem to be a little beyond sober, you take a swift exit from the room, and head for the turbo-lift before your colleagues can. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t heard the gossip about them and that’s one turbo-lift ride you prefer not to be a part of.

* * *

 

“Captain, the unidentified signal I monitored is directly ahead.” First officer Saru announces cooly to the bridge.

“Yellow alert, Mr Saru. Shields up, phasers to standby.” The captain says as he returns to his chair and takes his seat. You try not to openly stare, but the fuzziness in your head makes it even harder to tear your eyes away and turn back to your workstation.

“Copy that sir, topping up.” Lieutenant Tyler reports, working on his console beside you, seemingly in a better state of mind than you are.

Specialist Burnham is the next to speak. “Scanners identify the object as biological. Xenologic classification: gormagander. Its health appears to be compromised.”

“Cancel the yellow alert, Mr Saru.” Lorca orders with a sigh. “Thought those things had been hunted to extinction.”

“Hunting isn't the cause of its reduced numbers, it’s primarily due to their mating practices, or lack thereof.” Burnham responds, and as much as you respect the woman, listening to her techno-babble is difficult. In fact, you have to resist the urge to laugh at the name “gormagander”.

When you listen back in, the captain is ordering Specialist Burnham to work on the ship's new guest, and for you to follow him into his ready room.

* * *

 

“So, (Y/N), Should I even ask how drunk all my crew are?” He says with a smirk. Lorca didn’t even know how to party at a time like this, but you know he was concerned about you having a rest after recent events and insisted you attend. **  
**

“Welll,” you begin, exaggerating the word more than what you would’ve if you were sober. “Everyone’s enjoying themselves - someone’s got some Risian dance music playing.”

“I don’t think I even want to know what sounds like.” Lorca shakes his head laughing, and in your tipsy state, you find his reluctance to experience some downtime even more infuriating than usual.

“It’d be better with you there. I bet you’re a great dancer when you really get into it. I’d definitely like to dance with you. I bet you have rhythm, and _that body_ -” The rest of the sentence gets lost between your head and your brain. You should probably have more concern for your words, but they tumble out regardless, and with a more flirtatious tone than you would ever dream of under other circumstances.

“Are you drunk?” He asks, confusion crossing his face.

“A little.” You slur your words, and when his expression turns to displeasure you interject before he can even speak. “Hey, it was a party. I wasn’t supposed to be on duty. In fact, I do believe my attendance was ‘captain’s orders’.”

“Well, this is great. I’ll have to find someone else to help with analysing that space fish, or whale or whatever.” He becomes standoffish, his friendly tone replaced by his usual demeanour. “Back to your quarters Commander, I’ll speak to you tomorrow. That’s an order.”

“Yes, Captain.” You speak sheepishly, the haze of the alcohol slowing fading out and the reality setting in. Not only have you had to neglect your duties due to the fact you’re intoxicated, you flirted with the captain. You’d been so good at keeping your secret all these months, and the moment you get drunk it’s the first thing out of your mouth. _Shit. What now?_

You imagined Gabriel would be lenient on the drinking, after all, you had no intentions of going to the party until he coerced you into it. The flirting - that was the bigger issue by far - you could handle rejected affections usually, but this was your captain. Not only was it inappropriate to begin with, but you’d secretly been pining after him since you came under his command. The reality that he wouldn’t feel the same was completely sobering.

* * *

 

Reaching your quarters, laying down on your bed and the rude awakening of your blaring morning alarm seem to happen within a few seconds. Despite your brains pleading right now to roll over and get back to sleep, you peel yourself out of bed and begin your day, thankful you’re not working today. **  
**

The inevitable comes in the form of your door chiming. Time to face up to the consequences - and the captain doesn’t even wait for a response before entering the room.

“We ought to talk about last night.” He begins, wasting no time. You don’t notice the slight amusement on his face

“Captain.” You say, having to ignore the instinct to call him Gabriel like you usually do when alone. “I’m extremely sorry. For the drinking, for the inappropriate comments-”

He interrupts your panicked speech. “I understand, like you said, ‘captain’s orders’, I don’t know what I expected.”

You let out a sigh, and Gabriel steps closer toward you, inches away from your face.

“But you should’ve said something sooner.” He whispers. “It’s nice to know I’m not the only one with a certain _appreciation_.” His hand comes up to cup your face, sending shivers down your spine.

“Is that so?” You ask, suddenly overcoming the unease you’d felt previously. “I should get drunk more often.”

He laughs, moving in again. “Maybe you should. We ought to make up for lost time.”

The words are practically whispered onto your lips, and you can feel all of your senses electrify.

“Gabriel?” You ask, snaking your arms around his neck.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and kiss me already.” You order, and he wastes no time closing the gap between you, kissing you like he should have a long time ago.  


End file.
